


Go with the Flow

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars Silly Sides [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, MerMay, Mystical Creatures, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: When the Captain's unavailable, people bring their problems to Jesse.  Lucky Jesse's been around long enough to know 1) It's always the Wolfpack's fault and 2) The Captain will have a plan for this situation somewhere.  Yes, even the fishy situations.
Series: Soft Wars Silly Sides [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706599
Comments: 67
Kudos: 355





	Go with the Flow

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes I was informed that Kit Fisto's Everything does not in fact count as participating in MerMay. So please accept this offer instead. Thanks.

“Sir, I don’t want to alarm you.”

“I’m alarmed,” Jesse responds immediately. “Very alarmed. Is this the kind of conversation you should be having with the Captain?” He will cling vainly to his optimism til the day he dies. One day he will ask that, and whichever trooper it is that is bringing him a problem will suddenly think ‘yes, yes I _should_ bring this to the Captain!’ and promptly about-face.

He holds on to that optimism with the ferocity of a drowning man.

Specialist Tup shifts nervously and hugs his mug to his chest. He does not, in fact, about-face.

Jesse tries not to despair.

“Sir the ah. The situation? It’s the Captain.”

“Of course it is.” Of course it is. Because Jesse’s day really needed this. Still, there’s some optimism left deep down in the stagnant water covering the sublevels of Jesse’s heart. “‘Captain out of commission and unable to handle a situation’ sounds a lot like a medical problem to me.”

The trooper makes a complicated face. Jesse finds he doesn’t much care for troopers doing that, especially not when bringing him a problem. He’s very quickly proven right. “Lt Kix said it sounded like a research problem and sent me here.”

Jesse swears; from now until the end of time he’s going to make sure Kix never gets to sleep on the side of the bed up against the wall ever again. And he’s going to put underground rock band stickers on every single medic bay mug. The messy kind that won’t peel off clean.

At least Specialist Tup _tried_ to find someone else before coming to Jesse. He’s officially Jesse’s new favorite.

Crest Squad offices are abandoned. Jesse had kicked everyone out, including a protesting Dogma, to go take some actual leave. It’s not every day they get have a mission that leaves them in orbit above Scarif, and the men could use some sun. SSgt Attie was starting to look Stewjoni-pale, he swears. It means that Jesse has the chance to review all the outstanding after action reports without any witnesses to his responsible behavior. And he can brew the good caff and guarantee he actually gets a cup of it. There’s half a pot still gently steaming in the dispenser, and Jesse pours himself a refill, and trims it with a bracing slug from an unlabeled bottle that lurks innocuously nearby.

They’re Crest Squad. Their job is to know _everything_ Torrent troopers get up to. The least Jesse can do for them is make sure there’s always caff and rum.

Thus armored, Jesse drops heavily into Dogma’s seat and fiddles with every single one of the adjustments slightly. Payback for actually listening to Jesse and leaving. Who in their right mind ever listens to _Jesse_? “Okay. Okay go ahead and ruin my day Trooper, I’m ready.”

Specialist Tup looks like he would quite like a bracing slug of rum in his cup but doesn’t ask. Deep breath, feet hip-width apart, shoulders back oh no. Oh no Jesse’s not going to like this at all.

“There was an incident sir,” he starts and Jesse just goes ahead and chugs his caff. He’ll need it. He slaps the empty mug down on the desk. “Some brawl between the Wolfpack and Torrent. They started it!” he adds hurriedly in response to whatever it is he thinks Jesse’s face is doing.

First, Jesse knows that’s a lie. He’s roomed with Hardcase during Coruscant postings for most of this war, he knows damn well that Hardcase starts every single altercation with the Wolfpack. And second, Jesse’s hardly _disapproving_. Tussling’s good for a man. Keeps him limber. No, Jesse’s annoyed Hardcase didn’t invite him. A good brawl? Good chance to unwind and maybe rack up a few reprimands to offset any future commendations? The _best_ chance to get some betting in on Will Hardcase Figure It Out This Time? That’s Jesse’s kind of afternoon, and here he is instead doing reports.

(And the crisped sugar bonus atop the brawl bruleé: Kix gets annoyed when Jesse and Lt Sinker fight. It’s probably all the innuendo. Heh.)

Jesse waves at him to continue but it seems like the Specialist’s lost steam. He shuffles between his feet, glances down at his mug and back up, fidgets. After a few awkwardly long seconds of this he groans, gut deep and mournful.

Jesse can commiserate.

“The 104th’s Sgt Warthog tripped over something in the sand,” he announces dully, defeated but making _sure_ everyone’s aware that the Wolfpack is at fault. “And there was a flash and then…” He shoves his mug at Jesse. Jesse only takes it out of that insidious curiosity that he’s never quite been able to kill.

Captain Rex is half betta and all annoyed.

“What.”

Jesse’s not typically given to doubting what’s in front of his eyes. Not even when it’s literally impossible. He tips the mug forward, then back as if a slight difference in light would change what any of this looks like.

Captain Rex braces both arms against the concave curve of the ceramic and glares.

The still-human half of him is about three inches, head to waist. Human-ish. Jesse raises the mug nearly to his nose and yes, the Captain has tiny little gills under his ears and down his waist. His fingers end in sharper nails too, and his teeth when he grits them are far more pointed.

And then, of course, there’s the dramatic blue dorsal fin and flowing blue fish tail curled around the bottom of the cup. Those are just a bit more eye-catching.

“The coloring really shouldn’t work Captain,” Jesse says distantly. “It really should clash with your skin tone. I don’t know how you pull this off.”

The Captain snaps something, but it comes out soft and burbling, like waves on a seashore. Oh Force it’s adorable.

“Captain. Rex. I don’t know how to tell you this. But you’re really cute.”

Betta are fighting fish. They bite. Normally, they can’t hurt a person.

Jesse yelps, drops the mug in the scuffle to retrieve a carelessly placed finger and it is only Specialist Tup’s heroic dive that keeps Captain Rex’s temporary home from hitting the floor.

“I’m going to admit I deserved that,” Jesse huffs. “But I’m also going to mock you _forever_ when you’re back to normal.”

“It’s Lt Hardcase and Commander Wolffe too,” Tup reports. Jesse casts around for something to pat up the lines of blood welling from his finger. “And pretty much all of Domino and Blight squads. General Koon and them are studying the artifact that did it but…”

Specialist Tup rolls the mug back and forth between his hands. He’s got a little flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck and Jesse grins.

“But you smuggled the Captain out.”

The Specialist shrugs. Captain Rex hauls himself up to rest his elbows on the lip of the cup and pats the Specialist’s hand. He has to lean a very long way to reach, and his scales shimmer with some silver under the office lights. “I don’t know why? I just did.”

Jesse knows why. The Captain can’t command the 501st from whatever makeshift lab they’ll set up to find the answer. The 501st isn’t willing to wait however long it takes to have their Captain back in control.

Specialist Tup is very gentle when he nudges the Captain back inside. Doesn’t seem to mind that the Captain captures his thumb instead, and hauls himself bodily into his palm. Jesse shuffles around for a closer look.

The Captain’s tail is more than twice the length of the somewhat-normal rest of him, and his dorsal fin actually starts nearly up by his shoulder blades, nestled in a thin oval of scales that widen as they descend to his waist. His tail is exceptionally flowy, wider than the trooper’s palm and gently swaying in the little breeze in the records room.

The scales slowly change color, the blue lightening as they watch. That? Jesse doesn’t think that’s good.

“Air okay captain?” Jesse scoops water into his cupped fingers and drips it down the scales, the fin, all the way to the tip of his tails. Wetted scales darken instantly, but begin lightening again nearly as quickly. Jesse drips another scoop over him.

Captain Rex tips his head, shakes his arm. So-so. Probably a trade-off between drying out and compressing his tail, it looks like. It can’t be comfortable.

There’s some disposable flimsy napkins by the caff station, the good not-cheap kind that actually holds water well. The Captain seems to sigh when Jesse tucks a soaked one around him. His tail ends in deceptively frail little spikes that prick a bit like needles against Jesse’s skin. They flex, when he bundles them up under the napkin.

He sighs again, when Jesse presses Specialist Tup’s fingers a little more cupped and nudges the Captain to lean against them. Fish spine maybe? Doesn’t look like it’s real good at letting the Captain hold himself sitting upright.

They meet eyes, the Captain and Jesse, and the Captain’s grimace is entirely sympathetic. Jesse’s in charge of this show then. Perfect. No really. He’s _thrilled_.

He prods the Captain’s tiny shoulders with a middle finger. “There had better be a demotion in this for me,” he growls with the last dredges of his optimism.

The Captain laughs like swells breaking on a sandy shore. It’s really karking cute. Jesse prays ‘ _ Kot _1’ for himself.

“Right.” One day, Jesse’s going to get the best sort of pointed revenge for Captain Rex making him Torrent’s SiC. He doesn’t know how yet, but with every one of these kinds of moronic situations Jesse gets left to deal with he’s more determined that his revenge would be gloriously poetic and served appropriately chilled. “Specialist, go find a bigger bucket of some sort. I’m going to raid the Captain’s office for all his Code Red holopads and we’re going to meet in the med bay.”

Because there’s not a chance in all the sith hells that Jesse’s going to do this alone. And _Kix_ can call down to tell Jesse’s Crest Squad that their just-granted vacation is canceled for research reasons. Serves him right for trying to dart out of this.

“We don’t know how long the Jedi will take to figure this out, but I can guarantee the Captain already has a plan somewhere to cope with it til then.”

The Specialist brightens. It doesn’t take much for these young ones does it? Clear instructions and assurance that the Captain knows what he’s doing and they’d all jump to with a smile on their face and a song in their hearts.

It’s so karking cute Jesse wants to twitch.

_Don’t_ pat his adorable little fluffy bun. He’s a grown trooper and wouldn’t appreciate it.

The Captain’s look of fishy amusement is completely unfair, given the givens. Jesse kind of wants to store him in a toilet bowl, for that.

Instead he does what he should have done the moment Specialist Tup shoved a mugful of Mer-Rex into Jesse’s hands.

“For the report sir,” Jesse smiles blandly, and pulls out a holorecorder.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Strength. If this is your first time dabbling in this little universe of mine, know that this is an in-joke that started [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407009). Back  
> 


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